


Berserkr

by BrutalWarElf



Series: Berserkr 'verse [1]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rimming, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, berserkr!Toki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrutalWarElf/pseuds/BrutalWarElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vikings AU. Skwisgaar finds himself in chains on the ship of a Norse warband. His captor Toki 'Wartooth' intends to sell him to Saracen slavers, but grows increasingly attached to his prisoner during the weeks at sea. Their fragile friendship is undermined by hidden agendas and appaling secrets. Will Skwisgaar be able to make Toki own up to his past and atone for his crimes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

When Skwisgaar came to, agony shot through his back, radiating out to his legs. He gasped for air and whipped his head around wildly to orient himself. The movement in his cramping arms was limited because they appeared to be shackled above his head. It felt as if there were open wounds and bruises all over his back and his head throbbed painfully.

An elusive memory of acrid smoke and the clash of steel made his head swim. What was happening?

The ground underneath him lurched and his stomach started heaving. A leather-clad arm shoved a bucket under his chin. When his retching ceased, the person handed him a waterskin. Skwisgaar drank as if his life depended on it. Drinking helped clear his head, and he took in his surroundings.

Salty spray hit his face as the longship gave another lurch. The man with the waterskin braced himself on Skwisgaar’s outstretched leg. He was armed to the teeth and dressed in a leather jerkin and a fur cloak. The soot on his pale face made his blue eyes seem to burn. Working the helm and the oars were similarly dressed men. A Norse warband? He was in deep shit.

Tucking the waterskin away, the man regarded Skwisgaar with open interest on his young face. He was the only one nearby who was not in some way shackled to the hull of the ship.

Surrounding Skwisgaar were at least seven other miserable looking men, tall and fair, similarly dressed in worn work clothes. A warband specialized in slave trade, then. Cold fingers closed around his heart at the thought of never being his own man again.

‘I feareds you wouldnts wakes up again, but heres you ams. What ams your names?’ The Norse dialect combined with his surprisingly light voice made him sound like a child, but he pushed wet strands of long sandy hair out of his face with the measured grace of a predator.

‘No, you know what? You can go fuck yourself.’ Skwisgaar croaked.

‘Keeps talkings like that and I will fucks you up, pretty boy.’ The Norwegian countered, brows knitting together above a dangerous glare. He waited for a retort with narrowed eyes, but Skwisgaar held his tongue.

‘If you aments goingks to gives me your names, I’ll gives you one.’ He continued in an amused tone. ‘How abouts _Skogalv_? You looks likes you coulds be an elfs to me. Ams you haves elves in Sweden?’

‘Get out of my face, you bastard.’ He spat furiously. He was a free man! They had no right to sell him into slavery. And what was this guy playing at?

‘Makingks friends with de slaves, Wartooth?’ A raider with a ruddy forked beard shouted gleefully across the ship. Their flat accent was understandable, but it made them all sound like idiots to Skwisgaar’s ears.

The one called Wartooth made a rude gesture in the man’s general direction and turned back to Skwisgaar.  He reeled him in with the rope around his neck. Glare back in place he hissed menacingly:  ‘I wonts tells you again- Stows de backtalks.’

Skwisgaar kept a sullen silence. Collared like a dog to be sold into slavery. The gods had really decided to take a piss in his neck. He felt completely helpless; in fetters and weak with hunger and pain there was nothing he could do but suffer in silence.

That night, when the boat had gone quiet save for the waves crashing against the hull, he cried in abject misery. Mounting pain and pure exhaustion pulled him under near somewhere during the night.

 

 

The Swedish coastline disappeared out of sight the next day, along with any hope Skwisgaar might have had that this was all a bad dream. The strong eastern wind made for rapid progress, and the raiders grew bored with little more to do than eat, sleep and pick fights with each other. Skwisgaar counted twenty-five of them, all looking incredibly filthy and weathered. They must have been at sea all summer.

The raider with the long sandy hair – _Wartooth_ , his mind supplied – came over to try and talk to him again; calling him Skogalv and rambling about the weather and their course. Skwisgaar ignored his attempts at conversation; there was nothing he had to say to a man who had put him in chains for his own profit.

Despite the language barrier he soon learned that the other prisoners were Jutes, Saxons and Friesians. There were supposed to be more prisoners on other longships that sailed nearby, including some Swedes from Skwisgaar’s village. Some of the men were in worse health than he was, but most of them seemed fairly strong if malnourished. He supposed that was the point if they were going to be useful as slaves. Sometimes one of the prisoners could not help but weep in pain or for the loss of their families, but mostly they tried to seek the oblivion of sleep.

 

 

The further they went out onto the open sea, the more brutal life on board became. Late summer was rapidly changing into autumn, bringing icy rain from the north. The raiders had put up a tarp across the hull to shelter themselves and the slaves from the worst of the weather. A mix of rain and seawater still washed into the ship regularly, and the salt water stung the badly healing wounds on Skwisgaar’s back. One of the deeper cuts felt infected and hurt with every movement.

He burned with fever and drifted in and out of consciousness, a strange music sometimes lacing through his horrifying nightmares.

After three days on the ocean the raider named Wartooth and a man with a half shaved skull started untying the slaves and inspecting their teeth and limbs, cataloguing the injuries that needed attention. Most of the captured men underwent the inspection apathetically. There was nowhere to run, and the lethargy from the cold and hunger had slowly killed the motivation to put up a fight.

Skwisgaar had been stuck in an endless fever dream of fire and blood, but was brought back to the present by rough hands pulling his tunic over his head.

‘Dis one ams damaged, looks at him.’ He distantly heard sidecut say to Wartooth while he slapped Skwisgaar’s face. ‘Better throws dis one overboard, he ams gots one foots in Helheim already.’   

‘Cants we does anythingks to heals him?’ A note of panic rose in his shrill voice.

‘Donts bes an idiots, Toki. You grabs his legs.’

‘Nos! I aments goingk to throws him overboards like thats!’

‘I knows it ams a waste, but you shoulds have thoughts of that befores you maimed him.’

Wartooth pulled a knife. ‘I’ll fuckings throws you over boards if you donts- ’

‘Shuts up, Toki. Gunnar ams just yankings your chains.’ A low scratchy voice cut in. ‘Pay attention, lad. I ams goingks to shows you only once.’

‘Oh thanks, Eilif!’ Wartooth’s childish voice sounded genuinely grateful.

The older man that had broken up the row produced a satchel of herbs and set Wartooth to work. _Toki_ , was that his real name? Skwisgaar blacked out and lost track of time, but a shooting pain wrenched him back to awareness.

Eilif had grabbed Skwisgaar by the shoulders and bent him double so that Toki could reach the festering cut on his back. Even though the fever dreams were dulling his perception, agony lanced through his arms and back and he howled.

For a moment Skwisgaar thought he remembered his face being smashed into a rough surface and a knife biting into his back, but the memory was too insubstantial to recall it in any detail. 

‘It ams scabbeds over. You needs to breaks open the wounds befores you puts the ointments on.’

Skwisgaar felt Toki steady a hand on his back and lean close enough for his heavy breath to stir the hairs on his neck. He struggled weakly in the older man’s grip.

‘Donts overdoes it, lad!’ The old man warned sharply.

Skwisgaar barely felt the slicing motion, but when hands started pushing the pus out of his wound he could not contain his cries of pain.

After applying the ground herbs into the cut, Eilif left Toki to clean up the mess. He ran a wet cloth across Skwisgaar’s wounds with shaking hands. Rinsing it, he wiped down his entire back, lifting Skwisgaar’s hair to get at his neck.

He spoke quietly, lips brushing the shell of Skwisgaar’s ear. ‘You wills survives this, I makes sures of it, alrights?’

‘Kill me now!’ Skwisgaar groaned through gritted teeth.

‘You ams a stubborns sons of a bitch, _Skogalv_. You will lives and gets me a goods price on de slavesmarkets.’ Toki turned his back and settled somewhere between the rowing benches.

Avoiding the legs of the other prisoners, Skwisgaar gingerly lay down on his side and used his heavy, damp tunic as a blanket. Dreams of pain and screams took him under again while he shivered with a mixture of cold, fever and fear in the freezing night air.   


	2. Chapter 2

 

In the early light of dawn Toki worriedly leaned over Skogalv to check if he was still alive. He pushed the matted blond hair out of the way to feel the artery in his neck. Freya be thanked, there was a pulse. This one was giving him a lot of trouble, but then again, Toki might have used a tad excessive force during his capture.

It was a long-standing problem; he simply could not keep his bloodlust in check during the rage of battle. There was something deeply addictive and arousing about visiting all the violence he had ever endured tenfold on anyone who stood in his way. The crackling flames and bloodcurdling screams of others helped him chase away the memories of cold, dark cellars and the sound of his own quiet sobs.

He pulled Skogalv’s damp tunic away to look at his handiwork. The wound looked better- still angry and red but dryer and less swollen. Underneath all the blood and filth Skogalv was a rare beauty. The Saracens were going to fall over each other bidding for him. Somehow that thought gave Toki less satisfaction than he expected. Skogalv was shivering, and Toki quickly tugged the garment back over his sleeping form.

It was freezing cold now that the skies had cleared, and morning stars were winking at the horizon. Toki sat down on one of the rowing benches, unpinned the fibula that kept his cloak in place and shrugged it off. A couple of the men were already working up a sweat at the oars. This cold eastern wind was doing next to nothing for their progress.

Toki glanced back at Skogalv and decided to do a stupid thing. He covered the trembling Swede with the fur lined material of his cloak, tucking it tightly around his long limbs. He did not need it while rowing. Aric, the raider who had suggested they throw Skogalv overboard, started laughing at him and his brother Gunnar followed suit.

‘Just protecting my investment.’ Toki said dismissively.

‘Be a man and admit that you want to get into his pants. I could fuck just about anything right now. It’s been so fucking long.’ Gunnar let out an obscene moan and Toki shot forward to grab his neck in a stranglehold.

‘If you squint a little he could almost pass for a woman with that hair-’ Gunnar wheezed with laughter through his crushed windpipe.

Thorvald, their _thegn_ , cut in quickly. ‘Control yourselves! Don’t even think about fucking the slaves or all of you dumb shits will be at each other’s throats before the day is done. And you two had better stop fighting now or you’re swimming back to Oslo. Start rowing, you lazy fucks.’

Toki let go of Gunnar’s neck with a last tight squeeze that made him cough and he angrily grabbed an oar. He had better not see anyone so much at look sideways at his bloody elf.

Skogalv had woken an unprecedented ugly and possessive feeling in him. He had never personally cared about any of the prisoners he had taken. Not even the ginger Friesian that had screamed so prettily. He had had a lot of fun fucking that one into the floor of a farmhouse while its thatch roof crackled merrily overhead. However, he would not mind parting with the Friesian for some Saracen coin regardless of his… qualities.

The Swede was a different matter altogether. Besides his obvious physical attractiveness he showed an indomitable spirit that made Toki feel delightfully conflicted about wanting to either cherish it or break it.

 

 

They made long hours rowing steadily north that day, but Toki did not mind the rhythmic pull of the oars. Just before nightfall a gnawing hunger drew him out of his trance, and he got himself a generous portion of bread and salted meat.  

The sweat cooling on his back soon became impossible to ignore and Toki found himself wishing for his cloak. He glanced over at the Swede, who was huddling underneath the furs and staring vacantly across the ocean.

‘How is your wound?’ Toki squatted in front of him and tried to meet his eyes.

‘Betters.’ Skogalv slurred in his weird musical accent. He seemed a bit more agreeable now that his fever had broken.

‘Hungry?’ He offered up some of his bread.

‘Likes a wolves.’

Toki could not bring himself to take his cloak back. Instead he sat down close to the Swede where his tall frame blocked the wind. Toki chewed contemplatively. He wanted to know more about his prisoner, but he had a hard time coming up with something inoffensive to talk about.

‘They are sending out ravens tomorrow, to see if we’re nearing Norway.’ He tried eventually.

‘Norway. Greats.’ The disdain was evident on Skogalv’s long face.

Norway was not great, but it was the only home he knew. Toki lived for the summer months, journeying the North Sea in pursuit of slaves and plunder. The fair weather and the high of fighting, drinking and fucking their way stood in sharp contrast with the depressing winter at home. It was a harsh occupation, but still better than life at his parents’ farm. He was not looking forward to resuming his duties there once the raiding season ended.

As darkness fell, Skogalv slept with his back against the curved hull. Toki watched him, too cold to get comfortable enough to be able to fall asleep as well. It looked like he would have to wait until true exhaustion pulled him under. He might as well play some music to pass the time. Most of the men were still awake at this hour anyway.  

In his pack he kept a Saxon lyre that he had looted from an English monastery three years ago. He had taught himself how to play a few songs, and tried to pick up new ones wherever the raids took them. The sacred music in the English convents was his favourite. It was intricate and clever, and Toki enjoyed listening to the harmonious songs of praise before he ransacked the place.

His fingers strayed from those well-known songs to string together haunting folk melodies he had heard on the islands to the north of England some time ago. The soft sounds echoed across the misty waters and a couple of the men rumbled in appreciation.

Skogalv suddenly sat bolt upright and shifted closer to Toki. He was all intense fascination focused on the instrument.

‘What ams you gots dere?’ He asked gravely while Toki played. 

‘This is what the Saxons call a lyre, Skogalv.’

‘Skwisgaar.’

‘What?’

‘Dat ams my names.’ He supplied with his eyes still trained on Toki’s hands moving across the strings of the lyre. ‘So you ams the ones who has been playingks. I thought maybes I haves dreameds that. ’

 Skwisgaar leaned in to study his hands and the build of the six-stringed instrument. He listened with rapt attention as Toki worked through his limited repertoire slowly for his benefit. It was as if he had never seen a musical instrument before.

‘Alright, Skwisgaar Skogalv, do you want to try?’ He asked, pronouncing the unfamiliar name with difficulty.

Skwisgaar reverently took the lyre from him, shrugging out of the cloak. Toki awkwardly reached around him to position Skwisgaar’s arms on the instrument. He showed him how to pluck the strings over the wood with his right hand first. Skwisgaar had that basic technique down incredibly quickly. Surprised, Toki went on to teach him how to create harmonies by using his left hand to manipulate the strings where they spanned over the cut-away.

Even in the dark, the barely concealed joy on Skwisgaar’s face was hard to miss, and Toki thought it was the most attractive thing he had ever seen. They shared a conspirational grin over the yoke of the lyre. Toki had never been able to share his love for the instrument with anyone else, but Skwisgaar seemed intent on absorbing everything he knew in a single night. They had something in common after all, he thought triumphantly.

 

 

In the dead hours before dawn Toki felt his eyes getting heavy with the onset of sleep. Skwisgaar was haltingly stringing together the simplest melody Toki had shown him. His head was tilted in concentration as he kept his eyes trained on his fingers.

Toki yawned. ‘I’m going to pass out. Put it back in the bag when you’re done, alright?’

Skwisgaar nodded without looking up. Toki’s cloak pooled forgotten around his legs. Somewhere during the day both his tunic and wound had dried enough for him to dress, Toki noticed.

‘You mind?’ He jerked his head at the cloak.

Skwisgaar shook his head and shifted so Toki could take it without breaking his focus on his playing. Toki rolled into his cloak and lay down between the dark forms of sleeping men. While he stared at the stars passing overhead Skwisgaar’s playing improved with each passing moment. His pleasant, natural way of phrasing was the last thing on Toki’s mind.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Somewhere during the night the violently shivering Saxon across from Skwisgaar had stopped moving altogether. He had been too engrossed in his newfound passion for music to pay it much heed, but now that he put away the lyre with stiff fingers it worried him.

‘Toki.’ He shook the snoring warrior.

Toki’s eyes flew open and he was instantly alert.

‘That guy,’ Skwisgaar pointed, ‘he might be dead.’

‘Fucks.’ Toki whispered, and he crawled over to investigate. He shook the man, slapped his face and finally felt for a pulse at his neck and wrists. ‘Yes, he ams gones.’ He said regretfully.

Quietly waking up the _thegn_ , Toki relayed the situation in hushed tones. They stripped the dead Saxon of his clothes and footwear. His greying skin still bore the marks of his violent capture. Skwisgaar briefly saw a flash of maimed bodies lying in the dirt roads of the village and a notched sword dripping with blood inches from his face. The two raiders heaved the corpse overboard with a sickening splash, dissipating the vision.

Skwisgaar’s stomach clenched at the thought that it might have been him sinking below the icy waves. Unsettling as it was, the fact that Toki seemed to have taken a personal interest in him might prove to be key to his survival. Something about his unpredictable temper and the dangerous gleam in his eyes made Skwisgaar very wary, but Toki had a friendly side that could be useful.

Toki sat down next to Skwisgaar with a carefully blank look on his face, and surreptitiously held up the dead man’s woollen overcoat.

‘Puts it on befores you freezes to deaths too.’ He urged.

Skwisgaar forced a small smile and pulled the garment on. _Useful indeed_.

The weak sun was hovering over the horizon, and there was very little wind. Skwisgaar could almost remember what it was like not to be cold. He was famished, but he would worry about that after he got some proper sleep. Toki got up to work the oars with his companions and left his cloak at Skwisgaar’s side. As Skwisgaar tried to get comfortable under the furs he caught a snippet of conversation between the ugly raiders with the forked beard and the sidecut.

‘… betting that the Swede is never going to see the inside of a slaver’s galley?’

‘What, you think Wartooth is going to set him free?’ Sidecut sounded sceptical.

‘Not like that. But I’m willing to bet you a tenth of my share of the profit that he’s taking him back to Lillehammer.’

‘You’re joking…’

Lillehammer, wherever that was, was probably easier to escape than a slave galley, Skwisgaar mused with interest. He did not know how easy it was going to be to convince Toki to keep him after what he had said about Skwisgaar fetching a good price, but it was his best chance. If it was up to him, The Beard was going to win that bet. All the time he’d spent charming his way into the beds of the women in his village suddenly seemed like a good preparation in the light of his rapidly unfolding plan. He had no intention to meet his doom in a faraway desert land.

 

 

Skwisgaar woke to the smell of dried meat with a growling stomach. Toki was back at his side, digging into his food like he had not eaten in weeks. Crumbs of bread were stuck in his strangely shaved facial hair. Judging by the sheen on his forehead had been rowing throughout the day again. He smelled bad, of stale sweat and wet leather, but Skwisgaar was not going to pass up on his chance to set his plan in motion.

‘Any sign of the ravens?’ He asked, recalling their conversation of the previous evening.

‘They cames backs.’ Toki said around a mouthful of bread. He nodded at the wicker basket containing the birds.

Good. That meant he had some more time before they reached Norway. His stomach rumbled loudly, prompting Toki to tear up his bread to share it with him. Skwisgaar wolfed it down eagerly and Toki handed him a strip of meat. It was not very tasty, but it was something.

‘Thank you.’ It cost him a lot to feign gratitude towards the man who had robbed him of his freedom, but he had to keep his purpose in mind. He had to make Toki see him as a human being instead of merchandise, and that meant walking a fine line between feigning friendship and kissing his ass.

The sail snapped loudly in the wind and they kept their silence for a while, washing their food down with water.

‘Gots to takes the helms now.’ Toki got up with a weary sigh and made his way to take over the perch at the stern of the boat. If there was any order or routine to the way the raiders divided their tasks, Skwisgaar could not see it. Toki had not been very talkative today, but at least he had stopped calling him by that weird nickname _woodelf_ , Skwisgaar thought with wry amusement.

He watched Toki hunch against the rushing night air while he steadied their course. Now would be a good time for some ass-kissing. Bringing Toki his cloak, Skwisgaar asked if he could play the lyre again. 

‘I dids says thats you coulds.’ Toki said absently, shaking his tangled, greasy hair out in the wind. Skwisgaar imagined that he himself could not look much better kempt, but he had seen the way Toki had looked at him while teaching him how to play. He carefully filed that knowledge away for later use. Desperate times… and all that. Unpacking the lyre he sat down with it at Toki’s feet.

However debasing selling himself out like this was, he was currently the only prisoner who was not in the process of starving or freezing to death, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.

Skwisgaar played with genuine enjoyment, revisiting the melodies Toki had shown him yesterday and inventing new ones as he grew tired of them. Translating his mood into music seemed the most natural thing in the world, but this was not the best way to play if he wanted to get the intervals and speeds he had in mind.

He shifted the lyre in his hands so that he could strum the gathered strings at the base with his thumbnail. Moving his left hand to alternately block the strings he created mournful chords that followed each other in rapid succession.

Toki listened with open mouth before speaking up.

‘If you keeps learnings this fast you ams goingk to haves to teach me befores we reaches Norway.’

‘I intend to.’ He replied with a grin that he did not have to fake.

‘What ams dis you’re playing?’

‘Just making this up.’

‘It ams really good.’

It was good. He relished pouring himself into the instrument so much that he could forget being on a ship bound for a slave market for a while. The lyre felt right and familiar under his hands, like an extension of his mind.  

Toki did not speak again, eyes focused on the constellations of stars, but Skwisgaar knew he was listening. He briefly entertained a fantasy of taking the lyre with him when he escaped. Or he could try to recreate it if that was too big of a risk. He would not jeopardise his primary objective.

The old man, Eilif, came to relieve Toki of his duty when the moon reached its peak in the sky.

‘Gets some shutseyes, son,’ he said kindly. ‘You workeds hards today.’

Toki stood up to give Sidecut a good natured kick and sank down into the vacant spot when he rolled over. He glanced over at Skwisgaar and gave him an unreadable look in the faint light of the crescent moon. Skwisgaar did not acknowledge him and started figuring out the finger placements for the insistent melody that crowded to the forefront of his mind.  

 

 

Skwisgaar continued to plot out the details of his escape over the course of the next days, mentally preparing himself for various scenarios. He would try to make a break for it as soon as possible if it became apparent that Toki was going to sell him. If he did not, Skwisgaar would have a better chance biding his time until they were on the road to Lillehammer.

Going over an estimate of the provisions he needed to steal to make it back to Sweden on foot in late autumn he got the sinking feeling that it was probably a fool’s errand. The mountain passes would be impenetrable once the snows started. He would have to allow for the possibility of delaying his escape until spring if he wanted to reach Sweden alive.

That changed nothing about the groundwork he had to lay while they were at sea, so he kept subtly investing in his fledgling friendship with Toki. If Skwisgaar could forget the reason he was on this forsaken ship in the first place he might have actually liked him.

Sometimes, when they argued over music, Skwisgaar did forget for a while. He showed Toki his ‘strum and block’ technique and thought up new songs almost every day. The complicated harmonies he invented pushed the instrument to its limit.

‘This music would be better if we had two of these,’ he complained to Toki one afternoon as he fumbled with the positioning of his left hand.

‘Maybes we cans builds you one once we ams in Norway.’ Toki replied without thinking. A startled look passed over his features and he fell into a troubled silence upon realizing the implications of his words.

 

 

The following morning the ravens were released again, and the longer they stayed away, the more withdrawn Toki became. He was clearly troubled, but did not speak his mind to anyone.

Skwisgaar knew that Toki was conflicted about selling him once they arrived in Norway. Conflicted was not good enough. He needed Toki to make up his mind- in his favour. 


	4. Chapter 4

 

By nightfall the ravens had not returned, meaning that they had one or two days at most to reach the city. Dark landmasses soon became visible on either side of the ship. On the one hand it was a good thing because the temperatures were dropping rapidly, but on the other hand it meant that he had to make a decision about the Swede. He had three more slaves to sell if they had all survived the journey; two Jutes, and the Friesian on the ship of _thegn_ Hjalmar. If they did well on the market he would be set for this year. With that kind of money he could theoretically support his family and a thrall.

But how would his parents react if he brought home a slave? They were not overly fond of company – people in general – and led a very withdrawn life since they had converted to that new Christian religion.

Then again, there was work enough to be done on the farm during the winter and Toki could use the help. All his father was good for was wielding a whip. Last year’s welts had healed over nicely and the scars had become supple from all the rowing over the course of the summer. Maybe he could avoid new ones altogether if he doubled the amount of finished labour.

Aside from the practical implications he found himself warming to the idea of not having to make the journey home alone. He had grown very fond of spending time with Skwisgaar, now that he had mellowed a bit and did not try to bite Toki’s head off at every turn. He had every right to be livid, Toki supposed, but there was only so much room for keeping your burning hatred alive when trying to survive an arduous sea voyage.

Winter in the north was always lonely and quiet when thick snow blanketed everything like a burial shroud. He would sorely miss the raucous company of his warband, and bringing Skwisgaar with him might chase away some of that loneliness in the dead winter months. He pushed away thoughts of pale hair spread out on his pallet.

He wondered how badly the Swede would take it if he told him to come to Lillehammer. Toki was pretty certain that he would not enjoy the prospect of being a bond-servant in the arse end of nowhere. Then again, being Saracen slave was probably a worse fate.

This was a tougher call than he had bargained for when he had first spotted the Swede desperately swinging an axe in the narrow streets of his village. He would put the Jutes and the Friesian on the market first, Toki decided. Let it depend on how much they yielded, and how much profit his warband made on the plunder.

 

 

Skwisgaar was studying him appraisingly while he played. He did not have to look at his fingers anymore as they moved across the strings. Toki had hardly seen him without the lyre in the past couple of days. There was not much else to do on board except eat and sleep, granted, but it had almost become an extension of his arms.

Toki openly stared back at him. His long blond hair had become a filthy tangled mess at his back and the colours of his clothes were muted underneath grime and salt water stains. But Skwisgaar still had an air of nobility clinging about him that his hardships had not erased. Whether it was the straight line of his long nose, his sharp cheekbones or his full, downturned lips; Toki could not help but think of his otherworldly beauty as elf-like. Skwisgaar Skogalv. He maintained that it was a fitting name.

Elf or not, he undoubtedly had the power to destroy Toki from the inside out. Maybe it would be better for his self-preservation to part with him. 

Toki did not engage when Skwisgaar started pointing out ways to improve the build of the instrument to him, never even slowing down his playing while he talked. Toki had no idea what would be a better wood sort, or why a bridge would make the strings sound better. He sat back against the side of the ship and let the progression of the chords draw him to a semblance of sleep.

 

 

One side of Toki’s neck muscles had tightly cramped in his upright sleeping position. He groaned in discomfort as he rolled his neck.

‘Lyingks downs ams more comfortskables.’ Skwisgaar’s low voice cut through the darkness.

How long had he been asleep? He did not feel rested at all. Surveying the night sky with bleary eyes he noted that the moon had followed most of its trajectory towards the far horizon. Dawn could not be far away. Wind was whistling past the dragonhead on the bow of the ship, but everything else was quiet.

Skwisgaar was lying on his back next to him.

‘You sound like my mother, Skogalv.’

‘Pffft.’

Skwisgaar was right though; this was no way to sleep. Toki lay down onto the hard wooden planks facing Skwisgaar, who had his hands buried in his armpits and eyed Toki’s cloak with interest. He did not say a word, though he looked cold.  

Toki unpinned his fibula with a sigh and shifted closer, spreading the cloak across the two of them. Skwisgaar smiled faintly and Toki closed his eyes to keep himself from doing something stupid like touching him. He knew he could not control himself once he gave in to that temptation.

A heartbeat later he was startled by the press of cold, chapped lips against his own and the icy tip of Skwisgaar’s long nose against his cheek. He inhaled sharply and his eyes flew open.

Mind reeling, he froze. This was very strange. It was everything he wanted and more, but it could not be real. What had gotten into Skwisgaar? He could not imagine that he would ever put aside what Toki had done to him, regardless of how sexually frustrating the endless weeks at sea were.

Toki stared into Skwisgaar’s shadowed, sunken eyes for a long moment, giving him the opportunity to move away. When he did not, Toki snaked an arm around his waist and yanked him closer until the rough leather of his armour softly scratched against the coarse wool of Skwisgaar’s coat.

Kissing him back hungrily, Toki inwardly cursed the cold weather and thick layers of clothes they were wearing. He worked his hands inside Skwisgaar’s tunic with difficulty while he invaded his mouth with his tongue. Bracing one hand on Skwisgaar’s ass he ground his erection against the hard muscle of his upper leg. Skwisgaar underwent his frantic fumbling with carefully measured breathing, but Toki felt like he was going to burst into flame if he did not find relief soon. He crawled on top of Skwisgaar and tried to shove his pants down roughly.

_Don’t even think about fucking the slaves._

Shit. There really was no chance that it would go unnoticed if he mounted the Swede in the middle of his slumbering companions, was there? Toki did not care if anyone saw, but Thorvald would have his hide if he disobeyed his express command. He could have screamed with frustration, he wanted to fuck so badly. What if he tried to be really quiet? Could he risk it?

Schooling himself to patience with difficulty he rolled off of Skwisgaar, willing his heart to slow down so he could catch his breath. He would not be responsible for a massacre two days out of port.

‘Fuck, I’m really not allowed to-’ He trailed off in a whisper. ‘It will have to wait until you come home with me.’

Skwisgaar’s lips twitched up in a smile. ‘Cants waits for that,’ he muttered darkly.

Toki kissed him again briefly, unable to resist. Then he rolled onto his back, waiting impatiently for Skwisgaar’s breathing to even out with sleep. After unlacing his pants with trembling fingers he ran his heavy, rock hard cock through his fist. He gingerly reached out to put his hand on the curve of Skwisgaar’s ass. He did not dare do more than lightly rub his thumb along the cleft, but it was enough.  It took him only a few firm strokes before he was coming, biting back a groan. His balls contracted with a force bordering on painful and his semen spurted all over his front, soiling the leather of his armour.

Fuck sea voyages and fuck sharing 30 square metres with 25 other men and tantalizingly handsome slaves.

He shot up with a silent curse and hurried to wash his hands in the rushing seawater. He had to wipe these stains off his armour quickly. Getting blood on it was one thing, but this was going to look weird in the morning. Skwisgaar had terrible timing. That kiss had been impossibly arousing but also impossibly inconvenient.

All of Toki’s agonizing about The Swede’s fate had been erased from his mind in a single flash flood of desire. Fuck everything. Skwisgaar was coming with home with him even if he had to carry him to Lillehammer.   

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

They made landfall in a big port called Oslo early in the afternoon. Skwisgaar had never seen this many people in one place; working the docks, unloading small fishing vessels and trader’s longships alike. His eyes were inevitably drawn to a large, heavily guarded galley of exotic build, and he felt sick. He was not sure if it was out of fear or out of self-loathing. Having successfully forced Toki’s hand by sacrificing his last shred of pride, he now had some sort of assurance that Toki would not part with him. But it was merely a lesser of two evils. Remembering Toki’s rough hands under his clothes Skwisgaar swallowed down another wave of nausea.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe backbreaking labour would be a kinder fate than continual violation. But it would pass, he told himself firmly. This was ever his only chance of regaining his freedom.

The men started passing the bound slaves as well as chests filled with plunder onto the docks. Two other boats moored alongside their ship and the crews hailed each other cheerfully. They herded the slaves from all the boats into a group and started walking them to the sprawling market in a field just outside the harbour.

Toki kept Skwisgaar at his side with a rope around his neck, and he had never felt more humiliated in his life.

They were the last to leave the ship, Toki walking besides the _thegn_ and pulling Skwisgaar along behind him. Now that they were on equal ground Skwisgaar noticed that he was a good bit taller than Toki, which struck him as odd. At sea he had seemed so imposing in his leather and furs.

A camp was quickly being set up on the side of the field. There were different clusters of tents sprawling across the open space already, and men and women of various ethnicities were milling about. People leered at him from every direction, and although he was used to turning heads, on a slave market it was unnerving. He felt like a lamb going to the slaughter.    

Toki halted unexpectedly and threw down his pack in an empty patch of downtrodden grass. Then he pulled Skwisgaar to the pen that had been quickly erected to detain the slaves. He relieved Skwisgaar of the burdens he was carrying and walked away to set up a small tent made of dirty white canvas. Leaving his bags, sword and shield behind in the tent, he came back to the slave pen. To Skwisgaar’s surprise Toki passed by him by without a word and singled out a fair red-haired lad, who fearfully shielded himself with his hands and started sobbing hysterically as Toki approached.

Skwisgaar tore his eyes away. He did not want to think about what kind of brutality elicited such a reaction, but his mind supplied the options in graphic detail. He could not stop tears of fear and despair from welling up. _How long would it take Toki to break him like that?_

Turning his back on them he noticed two swarthy men in colourful robes at the fence. They were eyeing him with interest and called out to Toki with a rolling, guttural speech pattern. _Saracens?_

‘Sa-laam a-laikhum.’ Toki greeted them haltingly in their own language.

They started conversing in a garbled mixture of languages, punctuating their sentences with gestures. Toki shook his head when they repeatedly pointed at Skwisgaar. He motioned for them to wait and brought two stocky Jutes to the fence for them to inspect. Skwisgaar thought they looked like they lost a lot of weight in a short time, but the Saracens seemed satisfied with what they saw. One of them pointed at Skwisgaar again and made Toki another offer. Toki hesitated only a second, briefly glancing over to Skwisgaar before turning the Saracen’s offer down firmly. A fair weight in silver exchanged hands, and guards with curved blades and whips at their sides stepped in to lead the Jutes away.

Skwisgaar could not find it in himself to regret his actions, however much it may have cost him.

 

 

When the sun started sinking behind the pine trees the only ones left in the slave pen were Skwisgaar and the red-head. His broken spirit had repelled most potential buyers while the other slaves changed masters quickly. Skwisgaar’s presence had drawn a lot of interest from the slave traders, but Toki had stayed true to his word.

Sidecut and The Beard – Skwisgaar could never remember their names - came up to Toki with faces that spelled trouble, who was lounging in the grass nearby.

‘I tolds you nots to fuckings breaks them. It ams no goods for trades- you ams givingks us all a bads names.’ Sidecut accused.

Toki shrugged stubbornly. ‘They donts always breaks.’

‘You ams still lefts with halfs your merch!’

‘Could haves solds _him_ for mores than the rests combineds.’

‘But you didnts?’ The Beard exchanged a triumphant look with Sidecut.

‘Takings him backs to Lillehammer.’ Toki mumbled.

Sidecut grudgingly passed a clinking wash-leather pouch to The Beard, who laughed and clapped him on the back in sympathy.

‘I tolds you! Comes, lets me buys you some ales.’ The Beard put and arm around Sidecut and pulled him away from Toki.

‘So how much does you wants to bets dat neithers of these poor bastards leaves Oslo alive? Come on, gives me a chance to wins it backs, huh?’ Sidecut said a little too loudly as they retreated.

‘Temptingk. Toki ams goingk to tears the Swede apart, dats for sures. But I ams wills bet you dat Friesian kills himself.’

‘I cans hears dat!’ Toki sounded indignant.

‘Dat donts makes it any less true!’ Sidecut grinned over his shoulder.

Toki got up out of the grass and stalked after them with murder in his eyes.

Skwisgaar thought he would have thrown up had there been anything in his stomach. The implicit accusations the other raiders threw at him all added up to Toki being a sadist and a rapist who did not care about breaking the spirits of his victims. Even though his warband consisted of hardened warriors and slave traders, they looked down on him for his excessive use of violence.

In the light of this realization, his plan to go on the road to a remote part of Norway with Toki seemed like a very bad idea. _Toki ams goingk to tears the Swede apart, dats for sures._

 

 

Twilight fell over the market. The Friesian lad in the pen with him was huddling as far away from Skwisgaar as he could, brokenly whispering ‘Deameitsje my,’ over and over. Skwisgaar did not have to guess how those words translated into Swedish.

He wished he had something to take his mind off his horrifying thoughts. It was an endless cycle of fear, pain and discomfort. His fingers itched for the lyre. He wanted to let music fill his head so he could not think anymore.

Heavy footsteps in the grass made him look up, but unfortunately it was the last person he wanted to see right now.

‘I broughts you somethingks.’ Toki sat down cross-legged on the other side of the fence. He handed Skwisgaar a flagon of ale and a cloth bundle that contained warm bread and a chunk of roasted meat. Holding up a second bundle he asked innocuously: ‘Cans you throws this to the Friesians? He ams kinds of skittish arounds me.’

Skwisgaar obliged and turned back to glare at Toki through the fence. Before he could even think about eating he had to get something off his chest.

‘What did you do to him?’ He demanded bluntly, even though he feared he knew the answer already.

Toki looked him in the eye sharply. ‘Fucksed him. It gots pretty brutal.’ He said it matter-of-factly, but his usually expressive face turned stony.

‘Are you going to do that to me, too?’ Skwisgaar could not keep the emotion from his voice. ‘Am I going to end up like him, huh?’ He did not realize that the tears he had been holding back all day were spilling over until he could not catch his breath anymore.

Toki got up abruptly and strode away. He halted, turned around and stammered, clearly distraught: ‘It aments like dats!’ Then he turned on his heel and all but ran, disappearing among the tents.

Skwisgaar howled with rage, frustration and grief. Not only had he lost his freedom and self-worth; he had thrown in his lot with the most dangerous man he had ever met. Even if he got out of this alive, he could not see what could possibly make up for the horror.

 

 

Skwisgaar had been sleeping uneasily for a while when something woke him from uneasy dreams of Sweden and his estranged mother. Drifting on the breeze in the silent camp was his music, but not quite. The lyrical themes were discernible, but the phrases bent off in different directions, usually lower, more grounded, simpler. Toki was giving his song of desolation and loneliness a new dimension.

It sounded like guilt and regret.


	6. Chapter 6

 

When Toki woke up it felt as if all the horrific things he had experienced and perpetrated over the last three years had come crashing down on his head, topped off with a killer hangover. He felt sick with the weight of his guilt. He had always been distantly aware that his behaviour was crossing a line, but he had become very good at closing himself off from any type of pain.

Skwisgaar had completely knocked him on his ass with his accusations. The walls Toki had built between his everyday life and the suffering he caused had crumbled to dust and now he was buried alive beneath the rubble. Skwisgaar had forced Toki to see his victims and captives for what they were: people, not objects of his misplaced wrath and desires.

For the first time since he had joined the raids he allowed himself to feel the wrongness of his cruelty and brutality. He felt unbearably ashamed looking at himself through Skwisgaar’s eyes. It was as if caring about another person confronted him with a moral compass he had never believed applied to him before.

He carried a terrible darkness within, but he had been able to live with it because he chose to think it was somehow separate. Likewise the pleas and screams of his victims had never meant anything to him, but now they filled his head with an unfettered cacophony of blame.

He had no right continue this cycle of violence by making others suffer with him. In the end, that made him worse even than his father for the sheer amount of casualties he left behind.

Getting drunk had done nothing to alleviate the oppressive weight of his conscience, so he had played, and let the bright light of his newfound conscience expose the murky depths of his past transgressions. Skwisgaar's music had helped him channel his guilt and regret, allowing him to face up to his responsibility for all the destruction he had wrought, the bodies as well as minds he had defiled.

He had made up his mind about what must be done. There was only one way to pay for his crimes.

 

 

Skwisgaar looked almost as bad as Toki felt; red rimmed and swollen eyes give lie to his straight-backed and composed posture.

Toki could not meet his gaze as he undid Skwisgaar’s bonds.

‘There is nothing I can say to make up for the things I did, Skogalv,’ he whispered, throat closing up on his words, ‘but I want you to know- what you said last night,’ He could not form a coherent sentence. ‘I don’t want to…’

He took a steadying breath when hot tears started to fall. ‘I never knew anything but violence, never connected with anyone, but you changed that, and I care about you. I am so, so sorry.' He wept. Kneeling, he offered up his sword.

Skwisgaar stood frozen, taking the sword with fear and bewilderment in his eyes. 

‘I have no right to ask this of you, but-’

Sweeping his hair aside he bared his neck. Skwisgaar took in a sharp breath.

Toki braced himself for the impact.  

‘Thats mays be a littles too hards for me to handles.' Skwisgaar said in a small voice.

‘Please,’ Toki begged, but the blow did not come.

‘You woulds just takes the easy ways out and leaves me to fends for myselves out heres? ’ Skwisgaar accused bitterly.

Toki shook with the violent sobs racking his body. ‘Tell me what I can do, because I can’t see an end-’

‘Takes me with you.’ Skwisgaar said quietly. ‘I ams needs some places to stays for the winters. When springs comes, you will helps me on my ways to Sverige.’

‘You want me to take you to Lillehammer?’ He gasped incredulously.

Skwisgaar pressed his lips into a thin line and gave the barest of nods.

He was right. A quick death was a light payment for Toki’s crimes. He would start doing what he could to help Skwisgaar reclaim his old life. When he fulfilled that debt, well, there were ways.

 

 

Toki ended up trading the Friesian for a pair of horses with Eilíf, the kind-hearted healer. Toki was afraid to set him free after what Aric had said. Maybe Eilíf could help him back on his feet in time. He felt terrible about it, but this guilt was rightfully his to bear.

Preparations for the journey north took up the rest of the day, since Skwisgaar had nothing but the clothes he was captured in and the dead Saxon’s coat. They spent all day roaming the market for a cloak that would fit his tall frame, some boots that would withstand snow and a bedroll as well as rations for themselves and the horses.

Although the morning had them tiptoeing around each other, unsure how to proceed with their changed balance of power, it did not take long before they slipped into the role of equals after their uneasy truce. As the day progressed, Toki’s mind cleared with the help of his new purpose, and they resumed bickering about everything ranging from food to music and weapons.

Toki thought it absolutely necessary for Skwisgaar to carry weapons of his own because he knew the dangers of the north road. Skwisgaar agreed to that readily enough, but they got mired in a discussion about the merits of a sword versus an axe. Toki favoured the sword for its brutal efficiency; it was much easier to sever limbs in one blow with a sword than with a battle axe, and he tried to make Skwisgaar see that. However, Skwisgaar had never held a sword in his life and maintained that an axe would suffice.

Toki ceded to Skwisgaar’s will eventually, partly because he could see how familiarity with a weapon was an advantage, and partly because of Skwisgaar’s implacable, aloof stubbornness. Being able to bear arms again completed Skwisgaar’s transformation back into a free man, and Toki felt a little better.   

It was too late to start riding once they had packed their supplies, and after a warm meal of freshly cooked rabbit stew they found themselves hovering in front of Toki’s small tent.

‘Well, the good news is that you don’t have to sleep in the slave pen anymore, but…’ Toki trailed off into a painful silence. A cold rain started while they assessed each other, plastering their hair to their heads.  

Unspoken fear, hurt and guilt hung heavy in the air between them while the rain drummed softly on the canvas.

Toki unbuckled his heavy sword belt and slid the sheath with his hunting knife from the end. He laid his sword in the grass near the tarp covering their bags and handed the knife to Skwisgaar.

‘If you don’t feel safe…’

Skwisgaar declined with a measured shake of his head and ducked into the tent to lay out his bedroll.

 

 

This was a terrible idea, Toki thought late that night. He was still awake, watching the firelight from outside play over Skwisgaar’s slack features. The tent barely accommodated two bedrolls, and they could not move without elbowing each other.  Between Skwisgaar’s close proximity, Toki’s punishing conscience and the dread of having to return home it was impossible to sleep. He needed some alcohol, preferably a barrel.

‘Toki,’ Skwisgaar sighed tiredly when he accidentally jostled him again while tossing and turning. ‘You cans either lies stills voluntarilies or I ams wills use dats knifes to makes you.’

For all his threats, Skwisgaar fell asleep again quickly. Toki settled on his back, determined to at least rest his body if not his mind. There was no point in going outside; the rain was falling ever heavier. Thankfully the route north was not complicated, because he was going to be immensely tired tomorrow.

 

 

Tall pines passed overhead as the hooves of their leggy, Saxon breed bays clopped softly on the dirt road. They had left Oslo early that morning. Toki was exhausted and moody, and he let his horse pick its own pace with loose reins.

‘What ams wrongs with de sounds of your lyres?’ Skwisgaar suddenly spoke up

‘You mean when I was playing yesterday morning? It sounded great.’

‘No, it soundeds like shits.’

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’ Toki griped.

‘If you ams goingks to half-ass my musics donts plays it at all.’

‘Are you seriously trying to tell me I can’t play whatever the fuck I want because you think you can do it better?

‘Ja.’ Skwisgaar met his eyes with a superior expression.

‘Fuck you.’

An arrow whizzed past Toki’s left ear and they both looked back at the road ahead. Adrenaline started coursing through Toki’s veins and he could barely make out the five men blocking the road ahead through the red haze clouding at the edge of his vision.

‘Give up the Swede, Wartooth!’ A warrior he recognised from Hjalmar’s warband called. One of his companions nocked another arrow.

Toki aggressively drew his sword from its sheath and turned his horse to shield Skwisgaar.

‘Run!’ He hissed. Skwisgaar looked terrified and remained rooted to the spot.

‘Go! I will see you in Valhalla.’ Toki gave Skwisgaar’s horse a smack with the flat of his blade and the animal bolted into the trees.

The force of the impact from the second arrow punched the breath out of him, and his horse started rearing and whickering in fear. Unbalanced by the shock of pain and the speed of the arrow he plummeted to the ground, the hard landing knocking his sword from his hand.

The redness consumed his mind as well as his eyesight.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Skwisgaar clung to the mane of his frightened horse while it jumped into the undergrowth; _I will sees you in Valhalska_ ringing in his ears.

The horse stumbled upon landing and Skwisgaar made a grab for the reins to wheel it around. He was not going to run like a coward. Toki’s odds were beyond unfair, and however much of a monster he might be, he just sacrificed his life for Skwisgaar’s freedom without hesitation.

He urged the horse back through the thicket with haste, branches catching on his clothes, and emerged on to the road a few hundred yards back where they came from. He was just in time to see Toki jolt with the impact of a thick arrow.  

‘Toki!’ His scream spooked his horse anew.

Toki’s horse reared, throwing him from its back. The assailants saw their chance and started forward with raised weapons. Toki scrambled up slowly and snapped the arrow near the entry wound with a howl of fury. He hunched in on himself in pain and blindly felt for his sword. His hand connected with the hilt just in time to meet the attackers head on.

Toki singled out the bowman and swung his sword in a two-handed grip. The man fell down with a cry of anguish as Toki cleanly severed one of his arms. On the way down Toki gave the bowman’s head a vicious kick, blood splattering his boot and staining the packed earth. The man who had called for Toki’s surrender signalled to the others, and they drew back. They hesitated, looking at each other to see who would take Toki on next.

‘Come ons, you motherfuckers!’ Toki screamed, out of his mind with rage. ‘I will kills you all!’

Skwisgaar allowed his horse to halt for a moment, temporarily frozen by the sight; Toki’s face was contorted in an inhuman anger and his eyes burned with a disquieting gleam through the fine spray of blood on his skin. 

 

 

Skwisgaar had heard the tales of the berserkr warriors, the wolf-skinned, though he had never put much stock in the skaldic songs. Now the words rang true in his head.

_I'll ask of the berserks / you tasters of blood_

_Those intrepid heroes / how are they treated  
Those who wade out into battle / wolf-skinned they are called_

 

‘Who wants to dies firsts?! I promise dats it will bes better than beingks left at the ends!’ Toki advanced on them in a menacing prowl, holding his sword steady with complete disregard for the arrow shaft penetrating his arm.

Skwisgaar attempted to kick his horse into a run and ride into the fray, but the animal balked, the whites of its eyes showing in fear. He could not let Toki take on four men at once; no amount of berserkr rage was going to overcome their tactical advantage.

Giving up on the horse he jumped out of the saddle and wrenched his battle axe free. He ran to Toki’s side, who was headbutting the leader of the attack hard in the nose over their crossed swords. The man howled while the blood sprayed across both their faces.

Skwisgaar reached Toki the moment a second man was about to stab him from behind with a long knife. Hefting his axe he buried the curved blade into the man’s skull with a grunt, the blow sending a jolt through his arms. The blade came up covered in white pulp streaked with red as he pulled it out, and Skwisgaar gagged.

Toki roared as he ran the man with the bloodied face through with his sword, steel biting into flesh with a sickening squelch.

They took up a stance where Skwisgaar covered Toki’s back, but the remaining men both tried to get into Toki's defence. Toki parried the downswing of one of their swords and kicked the owner in the chest with a bone crushing force. Skwisgaar managed to awkwardly deflect the second man’s strike with an underhanded swing of his axe, and Toki moved in to slash the man’s throat, half severing his head. The body toppled slowly, and Skwisgaar spun around to see if any of the men had managed to get up again.

Toki stood over the man he had kicked to the ground, chest heaving with the force of his panting. The downed man whimpered in pain and mortal fear before Toki grabbed his head and started smashing it into the ground repeatedly. Skwisgaar watched in horror and morbid fascination as Toki battered his face into an unrecognisable bloody mess.

‘You ams lucky you ams an ugly bastards,’ Toki growled darkly when he paused to bring the man’s face level with his own, picking him half off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Throwing him back down, Toki got up stiffly. His left arm hung limply at his side now, splintered arrow shaft jutting out from his bicep. He lifted up his right leg and stomped down onto the man’s head with brutal strength, bashing in his skull until his limbs stopped flailing.

Skwisgaar unconsciously kept a tight grip on his axe as he approached. Underneath the drying blood Toki looked pale. He stumbled forward and Skwisgaar dropped his axe to catch him. Toki clung to him with his good arm, panting loudly against Skwisgaar’s chest. Skwisgaar rested his chin on the top of Toki’s head for a moment. They were still alive. He embraced Toki firmly.

'Gets the horses, Skwisgaar, we needs to be far gones before anyones discovers the bodies.'

Skwisgaar found the horses in a nearby clearing eating grass side by side as if nothing had happened. He led them back to Toki.

'I ams goingks to needs some helps.' Toki said, indicating his useless arm. He sheathed his sword without cleaning it.

Skwisgaar boosted him onto the tall bay and swung onto the back of his own.

'How well can you ride?'               

'Fasters than you.' Toki spurred his horse into a canter and Skwisgaar's horse followed automatically, unwilling to be left behind.

 

 

The horses were lathered and steaming when Toki finally slowed down the pace. Skwisgaar noticed he was barely holding on.

'Let’s get off the road, Toki. You need to let me look at your arm.'

They walked the horses off the road into the forest until they found a shallow, rocky stream where they could let the horses drink. Toki slid off his horse and collapsed into the grass. He seemed to have a high tolerance for pain, but the shock of the blood loss must be wearing on him.

'How are you holding up?’ Skwisgaar steadied him with a hand.  

'It needs to comes out.’ Toki said through gritted teeth. ‘Cans you see whats it looks likes?'

Skwisgaar gently lifted Toki’s arm to examine the underside. The arrowhead was half sticking out of the exit wound.

‘Should I pull it out? This is going to hurt.’

‘Ja. Does it quicklies.’

Skwisgaar's fingers slipped on the blood that wetted the iron point a couple of times, but he managed to get a good enough grip to yank the shaft all the way out.

Toki cried out in agony and fresh blood started welling up from the wound.

Skwisgaar helped him out of his leather armour and blood-soaked undershirt so they could take a better look at his arm.

Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed the strange texture of the skin on Toki’s back. Upon closer inspection it appeared to be a web of scars, some white and faded, but glossy pink stripes overlaid the older ones. The raised welts were spaced evenly across the expanse of skin, and could only have been caused by a lash of some sort; the thickness suggested a cattle whip. Skwisgaar wanted to know what had happened, but he could not find the words to ask, so he pretended not to notice.

Toki looked up at Skwisgaar, pale eyes shining out from the caked blood on his face. He looked so young, Skwisgaar thought. _I never knew anything but violence._ Perhaps Toki had not always been a monster. Someone had carved him into one.

Silent tears of pain were making tracks in the dried blood as Toki examined his wound with trembling fingers. Skwisgaar reached out to smooth a hand over Toki’s filthy hair. Without that terrifying berserkr rage he was just a hurt kid.

‘I imaginedsd Valhalla a bit differentlies.’ Toki huffed through his pain as he leaned into Skwisgaar’s touch.

Skwisgaar pulled his hand away when he realized what he was doing.

'Go wash, I'll get you some bandages.' He gave Toki a soft push towards the stream.

 

 

 

By nightfall they had reached the foothills that had been visible from Oslo’s harbour. Toki had led them deep into the forest, where their camp would not be visible from the road. Skwisgaar had gotten a small fire going and was changing Toki’s bloodied bandages by the light of the flames. The swelling around the wound had lessened a bit under the cool, wet cloth, but Toki still flinched at his touch.

‘So, Toki,’ he asked conversationally to take Toki’s mind off the pain, ‘what’s in Lillehammer?’

Toki stiffened under his hands. ‘Homes. My parents gots a farms.’

‘You live with your parents? How old are you?’ Skwisgaar asked, surprised.

He tilted his chin defiantly. ‘Nineteens.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The excerpt is from the skaldic poem called ‘Haraldskvaethi’. It was composed by Thórbiörn Hornklofi in the 9th century.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Despite getting shot and contracting a dangerous wound, Toki was certain that this had been one of the best days of his life. Elation filtered through him, masking the unceasing ache in his arm. He had fully expected to die today, or at least to never see Skwisgaar again. But against all odds he had returned to Toki’s side and helped him overcome their foes. The thought sparked a strange flutter in his chest, which was further stoked up by the memory of Skwisgaar’s arms around him, and his hand on Toki’s hair. Fighting for a good cause rather than senseless ruin was the best feeling ever.

Skwisgaar was boiling some water over the fire and Toki basked in the warmth that rolled over his bare skin. He flinched as Skwisgaar started peeling the bandages off his arm. The dried blood had stuck them to the holes on both sides of his arm.

Toki got the distinct feeling that Skwisgaar was brimming with questions as he worked on his injured arm, rinsing it with clean, warm water. His eyes were burning into Toki’s scarred back, making him feel very self-conscious about the hideous sight.

‘Must be hards to cultivates crops that fars north.’ Skwisgaar said in a strange tone as he tightened the knot on a fresh bandage.

Toki did not feel much like talking about his home. ‘We keep cattle.’ He replied briefly.

Skwisgaar scoffed and lightly ran his hands down Toki’s arm, turning his hand over in his own. His eyes focused on the marks on his wrists, holding them up to the firelight. Toki tried to block out all thought about his marred skin and focused instead on the touch of Skwisgaar’s long fingers.

‘How dids you- ’

Toki drew back his arm, partly because he could not stand the scrutiny, but mostly because he was in serious risk of getting hard under the soft touches. ‘I donts wants to talk about it.’ He garbled the Norse inflection, copying Skwisgaar’s speech pattern unconsciously.

‘Stops copies me.’ Skwisgaar swatted him on the back of the head and walked away to rummage through their bags.

‘Actuallies...’ He sat back down and fitted the lyre against his chest. ‘You betters copies me in this. It ams the only ways you will ever learns. I wills shows you one more times how to plays this, ja?’

Toki yawned, downed some of the dark ale they had brought along and shifted closer obediently to look over Skwisgaar’s shoulder. He knew how to play it, but it was a good excuse to stare.

 

 

‘Toki,’ Skwisgaar’s voice murmured close to his ear. The arm around him shook him a bit.

He started awake, trying to pull his disoriented wits about him. He lifted his head from Skwisgaar’s shoulder.

‘Oh, I- sorry,’ He mumbled.

‘Let’s gets some shutseye, huh?’ Skwisgaar pulled him up and guided him towards the tent.

Toki peeled off his leather pants with one hand and crawled into his bedroll. Skwisgaar threw him his undershirt that had been drying by the fire. The material was still warm when he pulled it over his head with difficulty. After banking the fire and doing a last check on the horses, Skwisgaar squeezed into the tent beside him.

‘Moves over. Respects your elders.’

He rolled on his right side to allow Skwisgaar some room as he settled in. He could make out a faint smile on Skwisgaar’s face.

‘Sleeps.’

The nervous flutter in his chest returned briefly before he crashed.    

 

 

Toki loudly cursed his useless, aching arm when he made an ill-fated attempt to saddle his horse the next morning. The animal kept sidestepping him as he tried to tighten the girth strap with one hand.  

‘Hej, hej, what ams the matters?’ Skwisgaar made his way over to help.

‘That stupid, useless arm. How am I supposed to turn up at home if I can’t pull my weight? I can’t even saddle a horse. ’ He replied, feeling the panic rising in his throat. It was only five more days to Lillehammer, and if he could not work, he might as well not come home. He had a responsibility to his family.

‘Dat ams pretty importants to you, huh?’ Skwisgaar said with soft concern. ‘Wells, you gots to moves it evens dough it hurts. Comes here. Sits.’

He took Toki’s arm and started moving it, bending it at the elbow and rotating his wrist. Toki kept a brave face even though pain stabbed through the damaged tissue. The muscle surrounding the wound felt completely shredded as it stretched and bunched under the strain. When Skwisgaar lifted his arm and started pushing his elbow towards his face Toki cried out.  

‘Gets useds to it, Tokis, we ams goingks to does this until you cans moves it yourself.’

 

 

‘When you said elder, how much older are we talking about?’ Toki inquired after they had been riding in silence for a while. The weather was holding steady for now, and the pain in his arm was bearable, so there was room for their mutual curiosity.

‘Uh… sevens winters,’ Skwisgaar calculated.

‘You got a family of your own?’ He realized a little late that this might be a painful topic. If he had ripped Skwisgaar from his loved ones…

‘Havents talkeds to my mothers in ages.’ Skwisgaar responded sourly.

‘How about a wife? Children?’ He could not help himself.

‘No wifes… supposedlies a small armies of childrens.’ He smirked smugly.

‘Supposedly.’ Toki repeated flatly. An indeterminate feeling of jealousy slowly suffused him. It was not hard to imagine that Skwisgaar sleeping with lots of women.

‘Ja, it ams a publics secrets dat I haves populated half the village.’

‘But you don’t acknowledge them? You don’t care.’

‘I donts cares about anythingks.’ He bit back.

Toki was speechless for a minute. Why would he sound so bitter about this?

‘I do. Care about my family, I mean. And about y-’

‘Shuts up, Toki.’ Skwisgaar interjected irritably.

Toki held his tongue. He mentally scolded himself for blurting out one stupid thing after another.

‘It kind of makes us polar opposites, don’t you think?’ He mused after a while. ‘You bring life and I bring death.’

‘Dats ams probablies why I hates you so much.’ Skwisgaar gave him a sidelong glance and one of his barely there smiles.

‘You’re lucky I took an arrow for you or I would punch you.’

 

 

‘Stop it, that feels awful!’

‘Donts bes such a babies, you wants to use dat arms again or nots?’ Skwisgaar grumbled as he dug his fingers into the abused muscle around the wound.

Toki huffed indignantly, remembering Skwisgaar’s anguished cries when Toki had tended to his wounds all those weeks ago. Skwisgaar had been his property then, and he had the power to maim him or care for him in equal measure. It was a struggle to force his thoughts away from that dangerous path, because regardless of right or wrong, that idea still did things to him.

He let his hungry gaze wander over Skwisgaar’s angular features shining in the firelight and got lost in the memory of cold lips against his own. It had been the first time he had been kissed, and however dubious it had been in retrospect, it had felt fantastic. He could not stop thinking about how much he needed more, but after all he had done he surely had forfeited Skwisgaar’s trust.  

Skwisgaar caught his gaze with narrowed eyes and Toki knew he saw right through him. He forced his parted lips shut and tried to look innocent. Flexing Toki’s arm painfully Skwisgaar looked away with a knowing smile. He knew exactly what kind of effect he had on Toki, had known it from the start. Toki was glad for the distraction of the pain; he was afraid his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

‘Nows you shoulds be good to puts up the horses for the nights.’ Skwisgaar said, letting go of his arm abruptly. He fished for the bag with the lyre and started playing, fingers speeding across the strings, shutting Toki out completely.

 

 

Grey light was filtering through the canvas when Toki slipped back into consciousness because of an unfamiliar sound. Skwisgaar stirred next to him, and Toki turned his head, looking at him expectantly. Skwisgaar rolled onto his back, but did not open his eyes. Toki watched him shift restlessly, his eyelids fluttering but remaining firmly shut. Was he having a nightmare? Perhaps the horrors of the past weeks were finally catching up with him.

His breathing was coming in short huffs, and Toki wondered if he should wake him up. A series of low, needy moans made Toki stay his hand. Blood started pooling in his groin and he cursed inwardly. He could not allow himself to keep thinking about Skwisgaar like this. For one, it did not coincide very well with his newfound noble intentions, and two, he probably would not survive the winter without going insane with desire.

Skwisgaar arched off the bedroll, eyes flying open and then glazing over while his mouth formed a silent o. 

Toki squeezed his eyes shut and pretended very hard to be asleep when Skwisgaar scrambled out of the tent as quickly as he could, making a sound of surprised disgust under his breath. 

Forget cold kisses, this was pure torture. How much time would he have before Skwisgaar came back? The loose underclothes he was wearing to bed rubbed him in all the wrong ways while he squirmed in indecision. There was no way he could just banish this from his mind; he could not deal with a raging hard on every time he accidentally remembered Skwisgaar having a wet dream. He started jacking off urgently, but heard soft footsteps approach again too soon. _Not yet_ , he pleaded inwardly. He was teetering on the brink of climaxing when Skwisgaar drew back the tent flap, and Toki pulled his hand away in alarm. Skwisgaar threw himself back down onto his bedroll with a sigh as Toki started coming untouched, desperately holding his breath to keep from making a sound. It was awful not being able to stroke himself through his orgasm and his balls contracted painfully. He let out his breath as stealthily as he could.

Insanity, it seemed, was an unavoidable fate.   

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Skwisgaar saw Toki de-age by ten years as the horses picked their way across the cart track leading up to the farm. All of his spirit seeped out of him the closer they got, and it left him catatonic.

The farm seemed in an overall state of disrepair; they passed rotting fences and wet, muddy fields with all sorts of cattle before stopping at a dark and dusty barn. The tall horses had to duck their heads under the low, turf covered awning.

Toki looked a little lost after they unsaddled and fed the horses. He kept brushing the same spot on the dark bay’s coat with unseeing eyes.   

‘Toki,’ Skwisgaar said gently. ‘Shouldn’t we go and greet your parents?’ Skwisgaar could not think of anyone he wanted to meet less than people who frequently disciplined their son with a bullwhip, but they would all be stuck here until spring at least.

 

Skwisgaar entered the gloomy longhouse behind Toki. A fire was burning low at the centre and there were several dark-clad people poring over a large leather-bound book on the benches surrounding it. A stern-looking man seemed to be lecturing the rest in grave tones.

‘Father, mother- I ams home.’ Toki announced softly.

The stern man looked up from the book and approached them, disapproval written plainly on his face.

‘Toki. You ams late.’ He offered no more welcome than that to his son.

‘I… rans into some troubles.’

Toki’s father scoffed. ‘You _ams_ troubles. And who ams that?’ He demanded, not quite looking at Skwisgaar.

Skwisgaar stepped forward to stand alongside Toki. ‘My name is Skwisgaar, I am Toki’s friend.’

‘What ams he sayingks?’ He demanded of Toki, ignoring Skwisgaar completely.

‘This ams my friend Skwisgaar, father. He wills be stayingks with me this winters.’

‘Wills he, now? You decideds that all bys yourselfs?’ Toki’s father asked dangerously. ‘Anja?’ He looked back at his wife, a woman in a black headdress who regarded them with the same disapproving expression.

‘It ams our Christian duties to be hospitable.’ She conceded sourly.  

‘I hopes for your sakes that he aments as much troubles as you.’ It sounded like a threat. ‘Off with you twos, donts lets me catch you insides your mother’s house lookingk and smellingk like this again- or I will has your hides, Toki.’ 

 _Just like you have countless times before, you bastard_ , Skwisgaar inwardly seethed.

‘Apolgesikes, father, mother.’ Toki said meekly.

‘Gets out.’ His mother had that air of a woman who had never intended to have children. His own mother, Serveta, had the same attitude, but Toki’s mother was infinitely colder.

‘What mores cans you tell us abouts Saint Paul, Aslaug?’ One of their visitors asked. Toki’s father turned back to the congregated people, dismissing Toki and Skwisgaar.  

 

 

Back in the barn Toki had produced a set of threadbare but clean clothes, a towel and a rough brush and pushed them into Skwisgaar’s hands. He had instructed Skwisgaar to go and bathe in the stream running behind the house while he was going to sort out a place for them to sleep. Skwisgaar had the feeling that even if they had been allowed to sleep in the house, he would still have preferred to sleep among the animals. These people treated their son with more contempt than most people treated their thralls. He was even less than a convenient labour source for them, Skwisgaar noted with disgust.

He was not very keen on braving the icy mountain stream, but could not pass up the opportunity to finally wash weeks of filth out of his hair and from his skin. Normally he would bathe every week and wash up every morning as was proper. He jumped into the water with a splash to get the cold shock over with and submerged himself completely. The ends of his hair had been one big tangle for the last three weeks, and he prayed Toki owned a comb as he started scrubbing his scalp with his fingers. He spent a good long time scouring his grimy skin with the brush before he exited the freezing water with chattering teeth. This was barbaric, and completely untenable in winter.

Off beyond the animal enclosure in the barn, Toki was busy making two pallets with their bedrolls, animal skins and woollen blankets. His arm was doing better after Skwisgaar’s efforts to rehabilitate him, but he still looked strained.

‘Do you need any help with that?’ He offered.

Toki looked up from his work, eyed him with a shy smile and ducked away, declining his offer. He mumbled something about taking a bath as well and disappeared, leaving Skwisgaar standing among the stacks of hay. The pallet looked really tempting after weeks of sleeping respectively on wooden planks and stretches of forest floor. He decided to test it out while waiting for Toki to return.

 

A soft scraping sound woke him some time later. Toki was sitting cross-legged and barefoot around a bowl of water, holding a small knife to his face. He was wearing a faded blue tunic instead of his leather armour and his hair was leaving a damp stain on his back. Most of his facial hair was gone, and Skwisgaar’s surprise at his clean-shaven face must have shown, because Toki smiled at him wryly.

‘It pisses my parents off.’ He explained. He washed the knife and set the bowl aside, picking up a comb and shears. Taking hold of a strand of his waist-length hair, it looked like he was just going to cut off everything below his shoulders.

Skwisgaar shot up and plucked the shears from his hand. ‘Don’t be an idiot; you’re a warrior, not some thrall with short hair.’

Confiscating the comb, too, he knelt behind Toki to drag it through his hair, teasing the tangles out with patience. It looked lighter now that it was freshly washed; a dark shade of blond.

‘See, no need to cut.’

Toki nodded and pulled his boots back on.

Skwisgaar grabbed the bowl and rid himself of his own stubble. ‘Did I get everything?’ He asked Toki, tilting his chin for inspection.

‘Ja, but your hairs stills looks like a beaverstails.’

‘What are you waiting for, then? Help me out.’

Toki was not gentle, tugging at the snags, but eventually he managed to comb through without pulling out too much hair.  

‘I likes your hairs, Skogalv.’ Toki admired while he tied it in a low tail with a piece of string.

‘Shut up, Toki, that’s an _argr_ thing to say.’

Toki’s hands stilled. ‘You wants to says thats again to my face?’ Toki bit out, but there was more hurt than aggression in his voice.

Skwisgaar’s regret was immediate. He had playfully directed a lot of taunts at Toki over the past week, but this one was below the belt. In truth, it was a grave insult, and considering the fact that he knew that Toki had feelings for him, one he should never have spoken aloud.

Even though it had been said in passing, such an accusation would be reason enough for Toki to challenge him to the _holmgang_ , and there was no doubt in his mind that Toki would crush him in single combat. Toki’s friendly and sometimes child-like behaviour made it easy to forget that he had no scruples raining violence, rape and death on his opponents.

Bracing himself for an escalation, Skwisgaar was shocked to see Toki get up and leave without a word. He had no idea why remorse cut through him like a knife when Toki softly shut the barn door behind him.

Skwisgaar kept his mind carefully blank as he lay back on the pallet and angled for the lyre in the open chest. He played music to the dull thud of wood splitting on the other side of the wall until it grew dark.

 

 

‘I should not have called you that.’ Skwisgaar gathered up the fallen logs of firewood surrounding Toki to stack them neatly on top of the existing rows lining the wall of the barn.

Toki did not turn around to meet his eyes, but he paused.

‘If liking you makes me _argr_ , so be it. It's not like I have any honour left to lose.’ He said dejectedly. His hair swung in an arc as he brought his axe down on a thick log, splitting it cleanly in two.

Skwisgaar shuddered when the sudden memory of splitting a man’s skull cut through his train of thought. He had turned himself into a killer to give Toki a shot at making things right. Why? He should not care if Toki lived or died or got whipped into oblivion; that was not how things worked.

‘Toki, don’t talk like that,’ he protested lamely.    

He could not help himself. It was unnerving to see Toki so small and defeated. This home was such a toxic environment - there was no fight left in him. Skwisgaar felt bad for him, because once removed from his ill-gotten power and entitlement, Toki was a joy to be around. He could be witty and philosophical, caring and playful. He had love in spades for all things that filled him with wonder, in equal measure if not more than he had anger and pain.

Toki was obviously devoted to being good to his abusive parents, and he constantly alluded to how much he cared about Skwisgaar. And while Toki loved freely, no one seemed to return it. For some reason, that thought upset Skwisgaar more than he cared to admit to himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone, for sticking with me through another angsty and sex-starved chapter ;) I absolutely love feedback, so leave something in the comments or on my tumblr at a-seraph-in-purgatory. I've got three more chapters planned for Berserkr. Drop me a note on what you want to read when they finally get over themselves and do it already, or what I should write next if you have any requests. Lots of love!


	10. Chapter 10

A thundering noise woke Toki from his light sleep. He fumbled for his hunting knife, readying himself for anything. When soft fur stroked his face he breathed in relief. It was only a cat. By the low light of the coals he could see that Skwisgaar was still fast asleep under a pile of sheepskins.

It was very early; the other animals were all quiet. When Toki threw back his blankets it felt cold, and he fervently hoped it had not started snowing yet. There was still so much maintenance to do before the ground froze.

The constant threats from his father about what would happen if he did not finish the preparations for the winter on time were a strong motivator to get up. He picked up the cat and put it outside so it would not wake Skwisgaar yet. He had been a great help the past couple of weeks; Skwisgaar really put his back into the work, making a contest out of everything, but Toki tried to hold him back from the work as much as he could. It sort of defeated the purpose of doing away with the slavery.

The cows opened their big eyes sleepily as he started shovelling hay into their troughs. He worked quickly to keep them from mooing. With the cows distracted he started roping the calves and leading them to a smaller enclosure where he had fodder ready for them. They all went with surprisingly little fuss, but then again, it was later in the year than when Toki would normally wean them.

After he had milked the cows the light started filtering through the cracks in the walls, and he grabbed his toolbox and his coat from beside the door to head out.

When he opened the door, he found himself face to face with Skwisgaar, who looked freshly washed and was holding a loaf of bread.

‘Your mothers cants resists me.’ He winked.

 _No one can,_ Toki thought.

‘You’re gross, Skwisgaar.’ He made a face. ‘Don’t make me throw up before I’ve even eaten.’

‘You mays thanks me laters.’ He put an arm around Toki’s shoulders and steered him back towards the benches by the fire. Toki’s stomach fluttered nervously at Skwisgaar’s close proximity. It had been months, but Toki still had not managed to get over himself.

 

 

Toki did not mind working the farm, but it had never been fun, exactly. This year was different; working in companiable silence or bickering with Skwisgaar about the proper approach to a problem was infinitely better than working alone. Infatuation aside, this must be what it was like to have a brother who had your back, he thought. He had never realized how desperately lonely he had always been.

‘Hej Tokis, holds the other ends of dis planks for me.’ Skwisgaar slurred a little too cheerfully.

They were mending the fences behind the barn, and Toki had just finished driving a new post into the ground. He warily grabbed the other end of the plank Skwisgaar was holding up. As soon as he got hold of it Skwisgaar gave it a push on his end, throwing Toki off-balance and shoving him into the mud.

Skwisgaar was doubling over with his throaty laughter while Toki floundered in surprise, and it was so infectious that he found himself shrieking with glee as he launched himself at Skwisgaar’s knees. They tumbled through the sparse grass, Skwisgaar pushing Toki’s face in the mud whenever he had the chance.

‘I really, really hate you, Skwisgaar,’ Toki spat out a mouthful of dirt while Skwisgaar pinned his hands above his head.

‘I knows, Toki, I knows,’ he crooned, too close for comfort. Wisps of blond hair had come loose from his tail during their struggle and were tickling Toki’s face.  

Toki still did not have his full strength back in his left arm, but that did not mean he had to lose fights to Skwisgaar. He braced one leg against the ground and bucked him off, scrambling to reverse their position, but Skwisgaar tangled their legs together until they reached some kind of stalemate in a mutual chokehold. Toki grinned and started rubbing his muddy face against Skwisgaar’s in revenge. By the chortling noises he was making Skwisgaar found it both disgusting and hilarious, and Toki briefly ceased his assault to admire his good work.

Skwisgaar’s grin was utterly irresistible; Toki wondered idly if he could get away with kissing him. Their laughter died away, and Toki became acutely aware of all the places where their body pressed against each other.

Skwisgaar licked his lips, and Toki started blushing, but a hand at his collar dragged him roughly to his knees. His father backhanded him across his face. He gasped, more from the unexpected shock than from pain.

‘I don’t even want to know what you filthy heathens are up to because you’re going to hell anyway, but I don’t want to see you burning daylight, understood?’ His father hissed.

Toki nodded obediently and turned his other cheek like he knew he was supposed to. The second blow did not fall. Skwisgaar had stepped in front of Toki to grab his father’s wrist.

‘Leaves him alone! We wills finish your godsdamned work, alrights?!’ 

His father gave him a look that spelled _I’m not through with you,_ but he retreated into the house.

‘ _Godsdamned_?’ Toki repeated incredulously at the same time Skwisgaar asked ‘Ams you alrights?’

Skwisgaar chuckled while he picked up hammer and nails. ‘That ams all your parents ever talks abouts: their dumb _Gods_ with his eternal _damnation._ I thoughts I woulds gets on his levels.’

Toki did not have the heart to tell him that probably had infuriated his father beyond belief.

 

 

After herding the sheep down the slopes of the mountain in the light snowfall, Toki counted them with growing dread as they pushed past him into the barn. So far there were five less than he had taken out to pasture last spring, and he was responsible for leaving them out on the mountain while he was away.

‘Skwisgaar, why don’t you get some dinner going? I’ll go and tell my father we rounded up the sheep.’ He tried to keep his tone light.

Trudging through the thin layer of fresh snow to the house he was afraid for what would come, but he kept his back straight.

‘Father, the sheep are back, but you should know that five of them are missing.’ He was glad of his steady voice under his father’s unyielding gaze.

‘I don’t have to tell you what that means, now do I?’ His father replied icily.

He did not. Toki stepped outside, took off his tunic and knelt in the snow. The wait while his knees got cold and wet was almost worse than the first crack of the whip splitting open the skin on his back.

‘Five for the missing livestock…’ his father counted while Toki clawed at the earth in agony, giving it his everything not to flee his punishment.

Three lashes were all he could take before he started screaming, but his father laid out all five with precision, each on a fresh strip of skin. The first welts did not bleed much, but soon he felt the steady trickle of blood down his sides. After the fifth, Toki took a shuddering breath while the tears of pain blinded his sight and coursed down his face.

‘I hope you didn’t think you were done.’ His father drawled, pulling back his arm. ‘One more for your behaviour today,’ The braided leather bit into Toki’s back again viciously, overlapping another welt. His voice cracked on his howl of pain. ‘and one for that insolent Swede’s.’  

As soon as he had meted out his punishment, his father slammed the door shut behind him, leaving him kneeling on the ground. Toki tried to catch his breath while blood and tears splashed onto the snow. He rolled onto his back in a clean patch to ease the pain and staunch the bleeding.

 

Wobbling back to the barn on unsteady legs, he wiped the tears and the bloody snow away with his tunic.

Skwisgaar looked up when he opened the door and paled visibly. He dropped the bowl he was holding with a clatter.

‘Toki! Toki, _no_ ,’ he moaned softly as he rushed towards him and gathered him up in his arms.

Something about Skwisgaar’s reaction made the tears start all over again. No one had ever acknowledged to Toki what a horrible experience these whippings were.  He sobbed loudly with grief over his parents’ stone cold hearts while Skwisgaar held him against his chest and placed soft kisses on top of his hair. The very real comfort that he provided was something Toki had been starving for all his life.

‘I ams nevers goingks to let dis happens to you agains,’ Skwisgaar whispered vehemently against his forehead.

Toki looked up at him, wondering how they had forged such a close bond after their bad start. He saw his question reflected in Skwisgaar’s eyes; he felt it too.

Skwisgaar leaned down to brush his lips against Toki’s uncertainly, and Toki surged up to crush them together.

It was like a dam breaking through. He poured the feelings he had been holding back for weeks into the kiss as he opened his mouth under Skwisgaar’s, yielding to the insistent pressure of his tongue. Skwisgaar’s hand on his hip fused their lower bodies together with a scorching heat. Toki’s arms got crushed between their chests as Skwisgaar circled his other arm around Toki’s neck.

After a while his mouth started wandering across Toki’s jaw and down the length of his neck and Toki gasped with the unbelievable pleasure of freely given affection as well as the physical sensation.

‘I donts wants to ruins de moments or anythinks,’ Skwisgaar murmured in between kisses, ‘but I thinks you needs some stiches.’ He held up a blood-covered hand.

‘Fuck stitches, I need more kisses,’ Toki protested, but Skwisgaar pushed him toward the bench near the fire.   

He straddled it while Skwisgaar sutured his skin with a hot needle where two gashes crossed each other.

‘Has I mades thingks worse for you by beingks rude to your fathers?’ Skwisgaar asked guiltily while he worked.

‘Don’t- ah, _fuck!’_ The needle was too bloody thick and blunt for this purpose. ‘- worry about it.’

‘Alrights, alrights, it ams done.’ Skwisgaar tightly wrapped some linen bandages around his torso. ‘Ams I doinks dis rights? How woulds you normallies…?’

‘I wouldn’t, so this is good, I guess. You’re the best.’

He turned around,  and their knees bumped into each other as they tried to get close enough to kiss. Skwisgaar laughed, pulling him up and kissing him until he could not think anymore. He avoided touching Toki’s back but made a point to run his hands across every other bit of skin available until he felt alight with desire.

Toki could not lift his arms very far or his stitches would pull, but he was more than content to let his hands wander across Skwisgaar’s lower back and ass, relearning the curve of it and squeezing the muscle through his pants.

Skwisgaar started walking him towards his pallet and murmured: ‘There ams some bloods on your clothes, Toki, betters takes them off.’  

Swallowing down a wave of panic, Toki hesitated. It was too sudden; he did not know how to do this properly- without hurting anyone. He was afraid of losing himself through the strength of his lust and destroying this beautiful thing that was just starting to take shape between them.

He tried to gently fend Skwisgaar’s hands off as he unlaced Toki’s pants.

‘Skwisgaar, I can’t do this. I’m afraid I-’

‘I ams not afraids of you.’ Skwisgaar offered quietly. ‘Lets me shows you.’

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Taking meticulous care not to overthink things, Skwisgaar took Toki’s hand and led him to his pallet. His motivation to finally take Toki to bed after avoiding their sexual tension all this time was a jumble of repressed attraction and pity laced with something more profound he dared not name. Seeing Toki hurt had irrevocably torn something in him.  

Without speaking, he guided Toki’s hands in undressing him. Toki looked nervous, fumbling with the fibula pin at Skwisgaar’s throat and the laces in his pants.

He ran his own hands up and down Toki’s sides, unsure exactly whose nerves the touches were supposed to be soothing. Once Skwisgaar stood naked before him, Toki seemed to be too embarrassed to take in the sight. He blushed furiously and tried to look everywhere at once, but his gaze kept being drawn back to Skwisgaar.

Skwisgaar gave him an encouraging smile. Toki placed a careful hand on his chest and ran it down his abdomen. Feeling a little bolder, he turned Skwisgaar around and let his hair down from its tail, running his hands through it reverently and stroking down the expanse of his back.

When he turned back to him Toki looked to be in a daze, but nothing like his mindless berserkr state. He pulled Toki to him; the leather of Toki’s pants chilled his naked thighs, but the soft skin on his abdomen tantalizingly brushed his cock due to their height difference.

Toki let out a quiet moan, hands clawing into Skwisgaar’s back with the effort to control himself.

Skwisgaar took Toki’s face in his hands and bent down for a slow kiss, pressing his tongue past Toki’s teeth patiently. He could feel Toki’s heartbeat pounding against his own chest as he scrabbled for purchase on Skwisgaar’s hips to grind them together.

After pushing Toki’s pants partway down his legs Skwisgaar crawled onto his pallet, settling on his back and watching Toki shed his last garments. Firelight framed his powerful body and he might have been an ominous sight under different circumstances with his glazed expression and the erection curving sharply against his stomach. But his face looked so young and innocent that Skwisgaar could easily dismiss the last vestiges of fear.

He waited, and Toki managed to muster the courage to lower himself onto Skwisgaar’s bed to straddle him. Playfully grabbing Toki by his tail Skwisgaar pulled him down. Toki braced his arms on either side of his shoulders with a wince, but he forgot himself quickly through their languid kisses. The hot slide of their lips set Skwisgaar ablaze with yearning and he delved deeper into Toki’s mouth.

Things had been so messy between them that he had never been able to act on his feelings, even though they had been plaguing him. And Toki had managed to respect Skwisgaar’s boundaries surprisingly well after leaving his old ways behind, so the tension between them had remained unresolved.

Toki was gorgeous, he thought, even though his multitude of scars was a little distracting, and he loved the feel of his solid limbs around him. He grabbed Toki’s hip with his free hand and rocked slowly into the cleft of his ass. Pleasure sparked through his lower body and he moaned against Toki’s mouth.

Canting his hips, Toki met his movements. When they found a good rhythm Skwisgaar abandoned Toki’s hip to palm his neglected cock. As soon as he wrapped his hand underneath the wetly glistening head and started pumping his fist up and down the length, Toki started making the soft mewling noises that Skwisgaar recognised a little too well as him being close to orgasm.

Toki generally seemed to think he was pretty subtle when he jacked off - which was every night and most mornings - but privacy was non-existent in their current situation. Some nights when he thought Skwisgaar was asleep he would get creative, and Skwisgaar would lay awake, inadvertedly listening or watching him move in the dying light of the embers. It had never been easy to suppress his own arousal when Toki writhed on his covers in various stages of undress.

Sweat was starting to pool between them as he rocked against Toki’s ass and dragged his fist across his sensitive dickhead. Toki pulled away from kissing to gulp for breath between desperate moans.

´Does you likes dat?´ Skwisgaar teased, botching the Norse pronunciation a bit.

The abrubtness with which Toki climaxed was startling; he let out a sudden shout, arched his back and his come splattered across Skwisgaar’s chest so hard it narrowly missed his face.

Skwisgaar laughed in surprise as Toki collapsed, boneless, on top of him, and stroked his hair while he spasmed with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Toki groaned softly against his shoulder and stretched out his legs. Skwisgaar rearranged Toki on his chest, careful not to dislodge his bandages. His own erection was still pulsing insistently between them, but Toki did not look in any shape to help him out. Skwisgaar pushed his cock between Toki’s thighs and wrapped his own legs tightly around them.

Toki placed slick, slow kisses in the crook of his neck as Skwisgaar started fucking up into the tight press of their limbs. It was clumsy and hard work, but it was hot and a little weird and he just needed to come right the fuck now. He bit into Toki’s neck and squeezed his ass roughly, grunting with the effort to keep up his rhythm underneath his solid weight until the rough friction wrenched an orgasm out of him. He let his head fall back and exhaled heavily as his semen coated the inside of Toki’s thighs.

He wrapped his arms around Toki’s neck and held him like that, placing kisses randomly on his face. He got a glimpse of pale eyes fluttering open and shut and Toki hummed contentedly, already half asleep. Skwisgaar decided not to give him any grief over it; he had had a rough day.

 

True to form, Toki’s hard-on made its presence known again first thing in the morning, but was a bit harder to ignore than when Toki took care of it himself. Skwisgaar woke up to Toki pawing him and grinding his cock against the curve of his ass. He rolled away onto his stomach and groaned. It was still too early and there was hay pricking him everywhere.

Mistaking it for an invitation, Toki wasted no time and mounted him under heavy breathing. He threaded a hand in Skwisgaar’s hair, pushed his head into the blankets and moaned obscenely as he rutted.

‘You ams so beautiful, I loves everythingks abouts you,’ he heard Toki pant somewhere above him.

Skwisgaar let out a long-suffering sigh, but opened his eyes to look. Sensuality was radiating from Toki in waves in the unapologetic way he got off on his body, and Skwisgaar’s cock stirred underneath him. Unfortunately, it was over in moments.

‘Fucking teenager,’ Skwisgaar grumbled as Toki cried out and hot come spurted across his back. ‘If you got any of it in my hair you can wash it out yourself,’ he complained, but it was fond.

Rolling over he held up a hand before Toki got the chance to flop down on top of him and fall asleep.

‘You’re adorable, but if we’re going to fuck – no more of that fucking masturbating with my body okay? Make yourself useful.’  

Toki laughed, and it was such a happy sound that Skwisgaar could not help but smile back like an idiot. Wrapping his hand firmly around Skwisgaar’s dick, Toki had him making different faces soon enough as he put all his skill into jacking him off.

 

 

‘Are you going somewheres, Toki?’ Skwisgaar asked curiously as he walked into the barn and saw Toki saddle a horse.

‘Ja, I’ms goingks to gets the material for strings, remember? I wills be back before darks.’

‘Ja, alrights,’ he replied, mixing up the Norse and Swedish again. Sometimes it felt like they were slowly fusing their mother tongues into one new dialect.

Whenever they were not having sex on every surface imaginable, Toki had been spending a lot of time building a second lyre for him over the past weeks. Skwisgaar had thought of some modifications that would make it different and probably better than Toki’s original, and all that was left to do now was string it. The snow had let up a couple of days, so it was probably the best time to go out.

‘Be carefuls,’ he kissed Toki and ruffled his pointy wool hat.

Skwisgaar had offered to mind the farm while Toki went out, and with nothing to do but to wait after he had milked the cows he sat by the fire and played.

It slowly grew dark and he set the lyre aside, worry gnawing at his insides. There was no sign of Toki yet. When he opened the barn door to see outside he heard it; the sound of a branch snapping in the cold, followed by the eerie scream of an animal in pain.

Not an animal, he realized while cold fear crushed his insides. _Toki_.

He closed his hand around the first weapon he touched and ran.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get the idea you guys are very fond of porn, so here you go! Sorry about the little 'plot development' ruining the mood at the end ;)  
> Let me know in the comments if you'd appreciate the smutty outtakes after I finish the last chapter, I've got some nice scenes lying around. Love you all!


	12. Chapter 12

Toki cowered beneath the lash as his father extracted his punishment once more. It had been so easy to forget he owed allegiance to anyone now that his whole world seemed to revolve around Skwisgaar. He had forgotten to ask permission leave the farm, and his father had become increasingly desperate in his attempts to keep Toki under his control.

The lash fell once, twice, three times, but stopped at the sound of boots crunching in the snow at a fast pace.

The light from the house cast a halo around Skwisgaar as he skidded to a halt and took in the scene with wide, livid eyes. He brandished a cast iron poker and seemed to be crackling with lighting, looking for all the world like Thor himself coming to wreak vengeance on Toki’s behalf.

Skwisgaar descended on his father, righteous fury contorting his features, hitting him on the side of his head with a sickening crack that might have been either lightning discharging or bone caving in.

The old man crumpled without a sound and Skwisgaar kicked him in the head on the way down which such strength that it smashed in his face.

Toki opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out, and he was choking, clawing at his face hysterically because they were in deep deep shit and that was his _father_.

Skwisgaar seemed to snap out of his frenzy and fell to his knees beside his father, feeling for a heartbeat.  

‘Toki, I-’ he whispered, ‘he’s- _oh gods…’_

Their terrified gazes met over his father’s dead body and Skwisgaar bowed his head to hide his panicked hyperventilating.

‘Forgives me, I dids not- ’ he choked out.

Toki knew he had to think quickly and keep it together if they wanted to come out if this alive, free and with their sanity intact.

‘Skwisgaar, listen to me,’ He whispered. ‘We need to get rid of the body. Think! If we dump it in the river someone might see it downstream, any other ideas?’

‘Gods, Tokis, I donts know!’ He replied shrilly.

‘Wait-’ If his father disappeared suspicion would fall to them immediately. They needed to get out of here as soon as possible, but hiding the body might buy them time. Burying would be impossible because the ground was frozen solid, but the frozen lake two miles away would remain frozen over until early April.

‘We’ve got a little time before my mother calls my father for dinner. I need you to put snowshoes on the other horse and pack everything the horses can carry. Dress as warmly as you can, we’re going into the wild.’

‘I ams so sorries- ’ Skwisgaar grabbed his arm, crushing the fabric of his sleeve in his fist.

Toki stood up, squared his shoulders and pulled Skwisgaar to his feet. ‘I’m riding out to the lake. Cover up the blood here. Go.’

He picked up his father’s lifeless body, slamming his walls firmly in place against the horror and the pain. There was no time for grief or remorse. He slung the corpse across the horse’s back and mounted with a blank mind.

‘Toki, I loves you,’ Skwisgaar called softly.

He spurred his horse into a careful trot. It was a dangerous move, but time was of the essence.

Trying not to let the reality of the situation touch him, he unceremoniously dumped the body of his father in a gap in the ice and made his way back to the farm across the treacherous snow-covered paths.

 

 

In the early light of dawn Skwisgaar stumbled in the snow beside him. Maybe it was time to set up camp, Toki thought distantly. He pushed the reins of his horse in Skwisgaar's hands and mechanically started setting up their tent in the shelter of a rocky outcropping.

Piling the furs and blankets high they tried to get some rest. The welts on Toki's back burned and stung, and the cold bit painfully at their extremities. Skwisgaar's mouth sought his in the dark, and they shared numb kisses under the dead silence of the pine forest. Skwisgaar's hands were cold and possessive, trying to stake claim where he got no response. Toki did not acknowledge them; he was too preoccupied with keeping the shock of witnessing his father's violent death at bay.

The journey between Lillehammer and Oslo was slow, miserable and isolating compared to the previous one. Skwisgaar ran out of energy to try and reach out to Toki halfway and they spent their days wrapped up in their own furs as well as their own thoughts. They were forced to lead the horses through the deep snow and avoid the roads until they reached the safe anonymity of the port.

There was nowhere to go from there except across the sea or the border with Sweden. Toki reasoned that if anyone came hunting for them, Sweden would be the obvious choice for their pursuers. Their best option was to join settlers headed for England as soon as spring arrived if they could avoid capture until then.

Moving between different inns periodically to prevent suspicion, their relationship was under great strain. They played for keeps together but slept apart. Even though Skwisgaar's music was a success, he took their inability to communicate out on Toki by keeping up a constant stream of criticism about trivial things.

'Why donts you practice mores?' Skwisgaar bit at him over a mug of ale after they had played all night for the inn’s other patrons.

'Why don't you just piss off?' He hissed back. He was in no mood to take any of Skwisgaar’s shit.

'Because you need someone to push you to work harder,' Skwisgaar argued thoughtlessly.

Toki shot up struck him hard in the face. 'So what, you killed my father so that you could take his place?!' He wanted to scream, but kept his voice down rather than draw attention from the other people in the hall.

He stormed out and bolted the room he occupied; he wanted to avoid the fallout of striking Skwisgaar, but his angry voice soon came from the other side of the door, demanding to be let in.

Toki eventually complied, and grudgingly opened the door for him. Skwisgaar put his hands on the side of his head and his mouth descended on his own with desperate fervour. He backed up until he hit the wall and Skwisgaar pinned him there.

'Please, Toki, stops shuttingks me out,' he pleaded when he let up to breathe.

Slumping against the wall Toki regarded Skwisgaar's damaged and distraught face remorsefully. What were they doing to each other?

'I'ms sorries, I’ms so sorries for destroyinks you lifes and leaving you with nothing.'

‘Skwisgaar, you _are_ my everything.’ He objected fiercely and Skwisgaar crushed their mouths together again. ‘Just- stop being a dick.’

‘I’ms not sorries about tryingks to gets you to play better,’ Skwisgaar amended, and he just did not know how to quit, did he?

‘Shut up,’ Toki kicked the door shut and grabbed him by the arms, wrestling him down onto the narrow bed.

‘What, you wants to just keeps-’ Toki yanked off his tunic aggressively. ‘- playingks in these shitholes all your-’

Wadding up a corner of the garment he shoved it in Skwisgaar’s mouth. ‘I said: shut up.’

He roughly pushed Skwisgaar’s pants down his thighs and pulled his ass up in the air. Skwisgaar let out a muffled protest as Toki pulled his cheeks apart, but when he felt his tongue press flat against his hole he fell silent.

Skwisgaar had been squeamish about letting Toki touch him there for the longest time because he considered it _argr_ , but once Toki had discovered how to ply his tongue it had not been difficult to convince him to change his mind.

Toki lapped softly at the ridge of muscle until Skwisgaar relaxed and hummed in appreciation. When he gradually increased the pressure and speed of his tongue, the moans he elicited from Skwisgaar were barely muted by the cloth anymore. His cock twitched heavily against the fabric of his pants when he started delving his tongue inside the ring of muscles, but he chose to wrap his hand around Skwisgaar’s erection first to give it a teasing stroke.

Skwisgaar tugged the cloth out of his mouth and pleaded: ‘Fuck me, Toki,’

‘Are you sure?’ Toki didn’t wait for an answer before licking another slow stripe across the sensitive skin.

‘Ja, _godsdamnit,’_

‘Not worried about _ergi_ and all that anymore?’ He taunted lightly.

‘Fuckings does it!’

Coating two fingers with saliva he gently curled them inside Skwisgaar while he unlaced his own pants.

‘ _Toki_ ,’ Skwisgaar whispered urgently.

He licked his hand and coated his cock before lining up with Skwisgaar’s hole. Pushing in slowly he exhaled with a shudder.

Skwisgaar let out a low keening moan as Toki sheathed his cock to the hilt. ‘Moves,’ he demanded breathlessly while he reached between his legs to jack himself off.

Unable to keep control any longer, Toki started shoving in roughly, and with every erratic thrust demolished the wall he had put up between them. They had been through so much together, he realized, and Skwisgaar was all he was ever going to need to be happy under any conditions.

‘Skwisgaar,’ he gasped at last, ‘you’re a dick, but I love you, too. I didn’t mean to shut you out. That was a shit thing to do.’

Skwisgaar arched his back and came with Toki’s name on his lips. Toki ploughed into his pliant body until his own orgasm ripped through him. The unparalleled ecstasy of releasing into the tight warmth of his lover’s body momentarily shut down his mind and his shout of pleasure remained stuck in his throat.

 

**Epilogue**

 

Toki and Skwisgaar were making their way around a large stone building in the Anglo-Saxon city they had been living in for a fortnight when their path was blocked by a bulky man with long black hair.

‘Are you guys here to play for the King?’ He gestured to the lyres they carried when they looked at him in confusion.

They were not, but Toki gave Skwisgaar a significant look and replied affirmatively in broken English.  

‘My name is Nathan; I’m something of a court composer if you will. His majesty King Charles has a great liking for the fine arts.’

He started instructing them on etiquette while he led them through a busy courtyard. They were hailed from a stone doorway by a short man with ginger dreadlocks.

‘Why don’t you guys run along with him, I’ve got to round up one more guy.’ He ushered them towards the entrance.

‘Tokis, what ams we doingks here?’ Skwisgaar murmured.

‘You wanted to play somewhere better than taverns, right? How does court sound?’

Skwisgaar blanched.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your support. As promised I will post smutty outtakes seperately. Keep an eye out for new stuff, because I've got so many ideas!


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